


Come out Sherlock!

by Sherlock1110



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blow Job, Confusion, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Frottage, Guilt, Hand Job, John Loves Sherlock, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sherlock Loves John, lots and lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:13:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4871281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt;</p><p>Texting:</p><p>I'm bored. Come home. -SH<br/>If you're bored, then come *out*. -JW<br/>Fine, yes, I'm gay. Come home and I'll prove it. -SH</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Come Home, John

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Text Worth Remembering](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4871302) by [sherlockian4evr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr). 



> Beta read by sherlockian4evr

Sherlock was upside down. He didn't know why. He didn't know how, and he didn't know when he became upside down. To be honest he didn't really care. He always found the sofa more appealing when John was around. He didn't know why. He just quite liked sitting next to him when he chose to sit there. He may have been right in the assumption that John had no idea, but he didn't care about that either. In fact, he couldn't help thinking about him. That was how and why; he was bored, waiting for John. So, instead of the sofa, he had taken John's arm chair. Only, the doctor hadn't been back in hours and he had successfully picked a random code for his password so he couldn't hack into his blog. Instead he had spun around so his head was on the floor and his feet poking over the back of the chair. He'd been there hours, or so it felt. That solved the when question… ish.

With a groan, he reached for his phone and typed out John's number that had been seared into his brain.

_I'm bored. Come home — SH_

The reply took so long that Sherlock had taken to balancing his phone in precarious positions and when it buzzed its message indication, it fell off his lap to the floor. He groped around for it absently and grinned when his hand found it.

_If you're bored, then come out — JW_

If Sherlock had been totally with it, he would have realised what the doctor meant, it was Saturday, John wasn't at work, instead, and he thumbed out a response, his brain feeling fuzzy from the overload of blood bubbling around.

_Ok, yes, I'm gay, come home and I'll prove it to you  
_

There was no response so Sherlock waited and waited until he heard the more than familiar, more than welcome thud, thud, thud on the stairs. The door swung open and John appeared.

“Sherlock, what the bloody hell was that message about?”

“Don't pretend you don't know, John. You told me to, after all.”

“I told you to meet me and Greg.”

Sherlock's mouth made a silent 'o' as he flicked back through the message history briefly.

“And why the bloody hell are you upside down in my chair?”

“What were you doing with Greg?”

“Having a pint. It's called a social life.” John grumbled something else, but Sherlock didn't care what it was as he wandered through to the kitchen. He heard the tell-tale sound of the kettle being flicked on and the cupboards banging.

“Why are you angry?”

“I was the other side of London! The other side, Sherlock, not up the street!”

When he reappeared at the living room doorway, Sherlock was still upside down in his chair, but had completely removed all his clothes.

The doctor's jaw dropped and so did the mug he was holding. He yelped rather high pitched as the scolding tea splashed up his leg, but he couldn't take his eye off the detective sprawled across his chair.

“What the actual fuck?”

“Well, I've started. I might as well finish.”

“One: you need to stop watching crap telly. Two: started what?”

“Coming out.”

“Oh God. Oh my God,” John turned around and his head collided with the wall. “Sherlock, I'm going to count to 60 and you will have put some pants on and got off my chair by the time I get there.”

Except, when a minute rolled around, the stubborn brat hadn't moved.

“C'mon, John. Do you not like what you see?”

John's fish impression was getting better each time he looked at the younger man. He spluttered for a moment, grasping at words that he couldn't find. He didn't know where to look either. He was drawn to the pale body of his upside down best friend, but where did he look? He couldn't meet his eyes that were the wrong way up, but still managed to make him feel uncomfortable and anywhere else attracted him to his groin, where given the fact that the sod was married to The Work, he was nurturing a rather impressive erection. He couldn't hide it from himself, not anymore. He took a wary step forward and then took a step back again.

“Sherlock, what happened to being married to your work?” John asked even though he knew it was bollocks and had always known.

Sadness sprung on Sherlock's face and he righted himself on the chair. “You,” he said quietly.

John smiled and paced into the room slowly, not taking his eyes off his flatmate.

“What did I do, Sherlock?” He asked with caution.

The frown that appeared on the detective broke John's heart. He seemed genuinely confused. “I don't know. I just… can't stop thinking about you.”

John froze as a sudden thought occurred to him. “If you are playing with me here, Sherlock, I'll be gone. For good.”

“Playing…”

“What else would you call this? Me coming home to find my best friend naked, upside down and in my seat.”

“I… sorry, John.” He grabbed his pants and pulled them on before rushing off to his bedroom and the door shut with a soft click.

John watched gobsmacked. Sherlock had just basically run away. He never ran away. He faced everything head on and got into a fair bit of trouble doing it. That was also the only apology the doctor had ever heard him utter. He thought through how their messages had gone and realised what conclusions a bored Sherlock would have come up with and he knew his best friend well enough to understand what course of action he would take with the conclusions he had drawn up.

He sighed. He needed to put this right. He was willing to do practically anything for the gorgeously brilliant man, but his emotions were something that we're very ratty ever since the war.

He knocked on the door and there was no response. On reflection, he hadn't really anticipated there being one.

“Sherlock?” He tried after a few minutes of intermediate knocking.

“G'way.”

“Sherlock, I'm sorry.”

There was again no response, verbal or otherwise. John knew for a fact that there was no lock on his bedroom door. He'd blown it off in an experiment.

Throwing all elements of caution to the wind, he opened the door and stuck his head around. The detective was face down on his bed, his head between the pillows. By the looks of things, it didn't even look like he had managed to get anymore dressed than to grab his usual blue dressing gown. It revealed a rather large amount of his leg and john had to mentally berate himself. He had had his chance earlier to pounce and instead had thrown the only form of sentiment and emotion back in his face. Eyeing him up right now was not the right plan of action.

He walked towards him, careful not to hide his footsteps. The last thing he needed was for Sherlock not to have heard the door and assume he was sneaking up on him.

“Sherlock?”

“Piss off, John. You made your point.”

If John didn't know any better, he would say, judging by his voice, that he was… crying. The doctor felt like his heart was ripping in two. This man had laid himself on the line the only way he knew how at great risk of humiliation only for him to be kicked into touch by the man that supposedly respects him the most.

Enough was enough! John pushed his hand beneath Sherlock's body and grasped his cock. Tt had fallen flaccid given the inactivity and the lack of reasons to be hard. The man yelped and tried to push the doctor away.

To John, the push seemed weak and not someone who wanted to say no, but someone who didn't want to say yes; Sherlock all over.

“Sherlock, I'm sorry. All the reasons why you would do that flashed through my mind and the only ones I paid any attention to were the bad ones. I'm so, so sorry, love.”

Love, love! Damnit Watson what the hell did you say that for?! Now you've well and truly screwed up!

Instead of the explosion he felt was imminent, Sherlock rolled over, red cheeked and caution in abundance.

“On reflection, I may not have proceeded down the correct route given what your message said.”

You've been given a life line Watson, run with it! “You have no need for apologises, Sherlock. In fact, you have already apologised well and truly.” He was taking a gamble with his next move, he knew he was, but the only way he could find out was if he tried. If he didn't, he would never know and if he did and didn't succeed he could always see if Germany needed any doctors. It would be good to use that qualification for something. He raised his hand and cupped his cheek.

Sherlock seemed to melt into it and John couldn't help but splutter out a “You meant it.”

“I don't just sit naked in all my friend’s chairs, John, although I might if I had any other real friends…” he trailed off and John grabbed his head. Sherlock moaned momentarily at the lack of contact on his cock, but was silenced by the doctor crashing his lips into the younger man's.

Round one Sherlock!


	2. Does This Mean You're My Boyfriend Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr
> 
> The promised chapter 2!

“What do we do now?” Sherlock asked cautiously.

“Now we do whatever we like.”

“Like…” Sherlock reached down between John's legs and grasped his cock. He slumped forward onto the detective causing a grunt to be pulled from the younger man.

“Not heavy am I, love?” He asked cheekily, and at the same time trying to make sure he was putting as much weight as possible onto him.

Sherlock just squeezed his cock in response, feeling it tighten and harden beneath his ministrations.

“I-if you k-keep d-doing that, this won't l-last long.”

“You said whatever I liked,” he pointed out.

“So I d-did,” John conceded and then pushed himself up so he could reach Sherlock's own cock and wrap his hand around it.

Sherlock suddenly felt a lot more confident than he had 10 minutes ago and he sought for control despite not knowing what he was doing. He loosened his grip on John's cock and grabbed his shoulders with both hands, then shifted their body weight so that John was on the bottom and the lanky detective was on top.

He grabbed his head in his hands and kissed him passionately. It was all lips and John had to push Sherlock back. “Babe, slow down!”

Sherlock froze and frowned. “Babe?”

The doctor bit his lip in a way that made him look adorable. The detective grinned before going back to the kissing. He pulled back again and settled his hands either side of John's head to hold him up. “Is that like a pet name?”

“I dunno – I guess…”

“Did you know the longest ever erection was held for 30 years?”

John blinked. He couldn't believe the way the genius' mind skittered about. He also couldn't believe that he managed to keep up. “Um… Yes, I did know that, but I would rather not wait that long. I'm not exactly young myself.” His hips bucked to meet Sherlock's cock. Even minimal friction at the moment was appreciated.

“How did you know that? More to the point, why did you know that?”

“How is it ok for you to know and not me?”

“I know these sorts of things. I have a Mind Palace.”

John reached up and pinched his chin between thumb and forefinger. “So you do. Well, I know because of my medical training.”

“You were taught to hold an erection?”

The doctor couldn't work out if he was joking or not. John laughed and decided he needed the upper hand so he squeezed the younger man's cock again and tugged so that his elbows buckled and his arms gave out. The doctor used the distraction to his advantage and spun them over so Sherlock was on the bottom. As he moved down to kneel between his legs, he watched for a reaction. “No, part of the training for erectile dysfunctions. Some of the uh… treatments meant a permanent erection, in the past at least.”

Sherlock frowned. “Is that good or bad?”

“Well, they weren't dysfunctional anymore,” John said with a grin before he leant forward and swallowed Sherlock whole.

The detective yelped, hips bucking at the new sensation. “J-John. Wh-what you are you doing?”

He pulled off with a pop. “It's called a blow job, Sherlock. For someone that knows the longest held erection time, I would have thought you'd know that.”

The blank look on the genius' face was brilliant and John licked a stripe up his cock in response.

Sherlock's head was flung back as he moaned. “Get on with it John!” He snapped.

The doctor blew on the head. “Tut, tut, impatience is never a good thing 'Lock,” but he took him in again alternating between blowing and sucking until Sherlock was pushed over the edge.

“I- I-”

Once John had cleaned him off as best as possible when water was so far away, he grinned at the younger man's expression and inability to form a sentence.

“Sherlock Holmes,” he said softly as he crawled up his chest. “Stuck for words. Where's my phone? I need to call Greg.”

“No-” Sherlock ground out and wrapped his hand around the doctor's cock.

All John could do was pant, he was so close to being over the edge already that a few quick strokes had him leaking all over Sherlock's hand. He collapsed in a limp lump, their flaccid cocks trapped between them.

“Does this mean you're my boyfriend now?”


End file.
